Page 44 of Hearts Lost

ITHRONEL

QUESTIONED BY THE ROYAL GUARD

“This has got to be the worst thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” I say through a mouthful of tasteless fruit pulp.

Aloserin makes an agreeable sort of growling noise, then spits a bite of leathery peel into the grass.

“Same,” he says. “I almost wish it was disgusting. At least then it would have a flavor.”

I laugh, again. He’s made me laugh so much today that my cheeks are sore from smiling. I wouldn’t have guessed that Acting Captain Aloserin had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor that could make me laugh at damn near anything. When he was lying unconscious on the blue grass near the dark beach, his expression somehow stern even in sleep, I wouldn’t have thought he had a sense of humor at all.

“Yes, vile is a flavor, I suppose,” I say.

I turn my half-eaten fruit over in my hands, trying to decide if I’m hungry enough to force the rest of it down or if I should just chuck it in the river. It tastes like wet sawdust, but it slakes my hunger. And there don’t seem to be as many fruit bushes on this side of the waterfall. I sigh, then take another bite.

“Stars,” I mutter, talking once again with my mouth full. “What I wouldn’t give for a loaf of really good bread right now.”

“Good bread?” Aloserin raises an eyebrow at me. “I think I’d trade half the Lands Below for a mediocre seed bun right about now.”

I snort another laugh, swallow, and decide I’ve had about as much as I can stomach. I toss the rest of the fruit into the river, where it lands in the swirling waters with a soft plop. Aloserin’s eyes trace the ripples.

“There are fish in that river,” he says. “I’ve seen a few along the bank. I could probably catch one.”

My gut rolls, but I force myself to make an agreeable sort of noise. Yes, there are fish in the river. I can sense their whispered thoughts, the brush of fear and excitement that moved through them when the mangled remains of my fruit splashed through the ceiling of their world.

My chest aches. I turn away as Aloserin comes to his feet and paces the length of the riverbank. I always hate this discussion. It was bad enough as a child, and it only got worse when I was forced into the Royal Guard. Because what kind of a soldier is too soft to eat meat?

“Ah,” Aloserin says.

I’m startled enough to look up and meet his eyes. He’s watching me with a secret sort of smile; something in my stomach clenches.

“You probably don’t want to eat them, right?” he asks. “The fish?”

I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.

“I— No,” I finally stammer. “I don’t.”

Aloserin shrugs like this is perfectly reasonable, like I haven’t spent my entire life trying to hide the fact that I don’t like to eat meat because that weakness would make me a target in the Royal Guard. And anything that would make me a target would make my sister a target as well.

“I suppose I wouldn’t want to eat anything I could talk to either,” Aloserin says, with a little smile. “That seems rude.”

Stars. I swallow hard around the heat rising inside my chest, the feeling that suddenly my heart is too large for my ribcage, that it’s going to rise up into the void’s strange violet-tinted skies and tug me along with it. Aloserin turns away from me to stare at the river, and the question that’s been nipping at the back of my mind all day suddenly bursts through my lips.

“When we get back—” I blurt out.

Aloserin turns around. The words die on my lips. He’s still smiling, but something about his features is harder now, like everything around him has just pulled tight.

Stars, I’m such an idiot. Last night was amazing; why do I have to ruin it by dwelling on the thing that’s been pounding at the back of my head since I started to feel like the two of us might actually make it out of here? Or perhaps since the moment Aloserin woke up, all bright eyes and dark looks, knocking me onto my back in the grass to protect me from the animals.

I shrug and try to smile like I’m making a joke. Like that’s all this is to me, another opportunity to laugh in the world’s face.

“I mean, do they have conjugal visits in your dungeons?” I ask. “Maybe you could, you know, swing by sometime.”

Fuck. What a stupid thing to say. My cheeks burn. I tug a piece of grass from between my feet and concentrate on tying it into a knot.

“Dungeons?” Aloserin’s voice is soft as he settles onto the grass beside me. “Why would you go to the dungeons?”

Because of what I’ve done, something hisses in the back of my mind. Because of all those people standing in the teleportation hub, all those figures who were swallowed by the blinding white light of Grathgore’s magic and my hatred. All the people who are probably dead now because of me.